


Bloodied Are The Hands That Crowned Him King And Heavy Is The Head That Bears The Crown

by Alex_Wants_To_Die



Series: The Sun Will Shine On Us Again [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bird/Human Hybrids, Blood and Injury, Branding, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, George is slightly selfish but not on purpose, How Do I Tag, I Tried, King!George, Mild Blood, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, character tags will be added as the story progresses, my boy's just confused y'all, slightly heavy topics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Wants_To_Die/pseuds/Alex_Wants_To_Die
Summary: After his coronation George realises being king is much worse than he had thought, running away had been simply a passing thought at one point but now he needed to make it a reality.What could go wrong?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: The Sun Will Shine On Us Again [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006338
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	1. Bloodied Are The Hands That Crowned Him King

**Author's Note:**

> I can't do summaries.
> 
> I don't have much planned for this story so don't expect much.
> 
> If any of the content creators in this story mention being uncomfortable with fanfiction or being paired with other people this work will be taken down.
> 
> I'm pairing their personas, not them in real life.
> 
> Respect people's boundaries.

When he woke up that morning he hadn't expected for people to knock on his door demanding he got dressed for his coronation.

He knew about the coronation before knowing of his father's death. 

Tragic.

He wasn't excited, not in the slightest, it was only in a few hours and he was already bracing himself for the pain he knew would come with the responsibility of the kingdom.

He doesn't feel mournful by his father's death, they never had a good relationship, his brother might even be celebrating.

"Please put these on."

He blinks, his eyes moving from his reflection on the mirror to the servant that had just come in.

Right, dressing up, this woman was in charge of his outfit. He looks at the shoes she's holding, black and white dress shoes with a slightly taller heel than usual for men in his kingdom. He blinks again.

"Pardon me?"

"Please put these on, the people in charge wanted you to look taller, I hope you don't mind."

"Of course." He takes the shoes from her hands, sitting on the stool placed near the mirror and slipping them on.

He looks back at his reflection, staring back at him is a tired man wearing the same clothes his father wore for his coronation, modified to match his size and re-stitched to look new again. He scowls.

He closes his eyes, sighing before turning to the servant and nodding at her. She gets the message and gestures for him to follow.

Let's get this over with.

They walk through the halls, banners with the kingdom's symbol were hung in almost every part of the palace, he knew it was his father's way of mocking him.

He hated the flag. A blue bird- a swallow- seemingly falling with a dagger pushed into its body. His father had requested this exact image after his mother's death.

Every time he looked at the bird he felt his wings move slightly, trying to get out from their hidden spot in his back and straining his muscles in the process.

They had to go through one of the gardens as to come in the throne room through the front doors of the palace. He thought it was stupid, it'd be much easier just coming in through one of the hallways instead of having to go around half of the palace just to make a dramatic entrance.

He could hear people talking from outside the main entrance, he hopes his brother's there to support him when he walks in.

He takes a deep breath as two guards open the large front doors that lead to the throne room, everyone quiets down as music starts playing and the choir sings.

And there in front of the throne was the man tasked with making him king, the same man that had been tasked with his mother's death years ago by his father's request, the man who after brutally beating the queen to death looked the oldest prince in the eye and laughed.

He tries not to shrink in fear, his wings trying to break free to try to escape despite his inability to fly, his senses are yelling at him. He doesn't want to be in the same room as this man, but what would his kingdom think of their new king if they saw him running away like a caged animal who just got the opportunity of freedom?

The man is holding a branding iron above the fire of one of the many lit torches around the throne and George's stomach sinks as the gravity of the situation sets in.

It was tradition, every king gets the kingdom's symbol branded on their chest, right above their heart. And if the heir makes a noise or any signal of pain during the branding they're either ridiculed for years, deemed not a worthy king, or, if they have any siblings, they're executed and the throne is passed on.

The reminder of what was about to happen sent a wave of panic and dizziness through his body, his eyes immediately clip to look at his brother who's standing by the side, a few feet away from the throne. He's making that face he makes whenever one of his pets is sick and he knows they're going to die, the face of someone who's already grieving a closed one's death before it even happens.

He looks back at the man holding the branding iron, he'd never taken the effort to learn his name, it seemed so wrong looking this person, this murderer, in the eyes and knowing his name. Though, he's sure he'll learn his name soon enough.

He starts walking forwards, acutely aware of the stares people were giving him, things seemed like they were moving in slow motion and he could almost see blood covering the man about to crown him king, hands with blood impossible to wash off.

He didn't want to be executed, a part of him had already accepted his fate but another part of him was determined to live, no matter how painful it'd be, he was probably underestimating how painful branding would be but he couldn't bring himself to think about it as he made his way up the small steps leading to the throne.

As he stared into the smug eyes of the man in front of him he decided that no matter what happened, he would not die.

He wouldn't give this asshole that satisfaction.

The choir is still singing but he can't get his mind to focus on their words, his mind overridden by anxiety and his heart pounding loudly. Unnoticeably taking a deep breath he kneels down, staring up, eyes trained onto the branding iron that the man now held by his torso, ready for the ceremony to begin.

The man starts speaking, voice booming through the large room and making him shudder slightly, reminded of the maniacal laugh the man had given while staring at the terrified and grief stricken child he had once been.

His focus is brought back at the man's next words.

"With this fire I mark you, with the burden of this kingdom!" he closes his eyes before the iron touches him, bracing himself for the pain he knows is coming.

And sooner than he'd liked it comes, white hot pain spreading through his body as the brand burns through his shirt and onto his chest. He breathes out and forces himself to stay still, to not have a reaction.

The iron stays longer than necessary, he knows it does, he can feel the man pressing it harder before bringing it back and passing it to a servant, the iron is held up to the fire again.

He picks up the crown from the case it had been placed in.

He holds the crown up for everyone to see "I crown thee George, king of Bircius!" the crown is placed on his head, and with it, comes the heaviness of the responsibility of the kingdom. 

The now again burning hot branding iron is passed to him, he grips it with force as to not show how much his hands are shaking. He rises from his knees, turning around with a blank expression, his eyes fall on the pristine looking cask filled with water two of the servants had brought in. 

He shifts the iron piece in his hands, the brand pointing down as he raises it above his head before dunking it the water, hearing the sizzling sound it made as it cooled down. It was done. The branding iron in the water signifying he'd be king for years to come. 

_"Long live the king!"_

The cheers echo in his ears, leaving a ringing noise behind. He turns to the side where a guard is holding an iron sword decorated with sapphires and emeralds, he takes the sword, turning back to the crowd as he lifts is above his head, pointing up.

"Long live the king!"

Long live the king.

_...Long live the king of Bircius..._


	2. Heavy Is The Head That Bears The Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not beta read so I might come back later to change some things up
> 
> ALSO: This chapter deals with some sensitive topics that could be triggering to some people, please proceed with caution.

"I had a dream last night."

Brown eyes meet George's, silence hanging in the air of the library.

"About dad." He finishes, tired eyes moving to stare at his brother's.

"What was it about?"

"I was hitting dad with a hammer, he was screaming for help and..." he gulps "And I think maybe halfway through it has more to do with me killing him then it ever did protecting myself."

His brother blinks, then smiles despite the topic of conversation "I like how you call that a dream, instead of a nightmare."

George narrows his eyes, lowering a book he had been reading only a few moments earlier "I didn't exactly enjoy it."

"Well, wouldn't it be justified if you did it in real life? He was pushing his luck with the 'punishments' he gave you."

"With the context of the dream it'd still be second degree murder, James."

James stares at his brother with an almost blank look, confusion written on his brow.

"What's the difference again?"

George brings his book back up, going back to looking over the words "First degree is when you plan it beforehand, second degree is when you didn't necessarily plan it but still meant to kill the person."

"Ah, so you did mean to kill him."

"I'm gonna punch you."

"You're the one dreaming about murdering an already dead man! Who! Was your father!"

"Maybe it's the stress, Travis has been trying to get me to marry." he quickly tries changing the topic of conversation, no longer comfortable with it.

"Travis? The guy who crowned you? The priest?"

"Yes, the priest." his words are spoken through gritted teeth, anger and frustration clear in his voice.

"He's been trying to get you married? Why?" James tilts his head slightly, the confusion he previously wore back more evidently.

"Because I'm king now, that's why." he sighs, putting his book down after reading the whole page without absorbing any of its information "He's been trying to marry me with teenagers, James, teenagers!"

His brother's face twists in disgust "Why in the ever loving fuck would he do that?"

George's wings snap wide open, feathers fluffed up "Because there's no law against it here yet like there is in other kingdoms! Because dad and his little minions were perverted fucks who thought once a girl starts menstruation she's ready to be mother! It's fucking disgusting!"

His brother opens his mouth to respond when someone interrupts him from the entrance of the library.

"King George! I'm here to request your presence in a private meeting."

George folds his wings behind him quickly, putting on the cape hung over his chair to hide them as he didn't have enough time to tuck them into his back right now.

He stands up, closing his book and leaving it there, his brother salutes him, he nods back and turns around to walk away.

As he rounds a tall shelf filled with books he catches sight of Travis at the door, posture straight and hands behind his back.

He takes a deep breath, patience already wearing thin as he prepares himself for the conversation he knows is coming for at least the fifth time since he was made king.

"My king, pleasure to see you, I wanted to discuss your marriage, you still haven't chosen a queen." he starts walking, expecting George to follow behind, he does.

"I've told you this before, father, I do not wish to marry just yet, I'd much rather rule alone for some time before I settle down."

"I acknowledge that, your majesty, but I do believe getting married is for the best. Now," He pulls a small notebook he had on his belt "I have here a list of potential queens."

George almost groans out loud. Almost. He could feel his stomach turning at the thought of settling down with someone he barely knew, even more settling down with a teenager, most of the girls the priest had suggested before were around 13. The idea made him want to throw up.

Travis listed names, ages and the family they'd come from.

"Why are most of these girls teenagers?"

Travis blinks "Well, they've already started menstruation so I'm sure they're fit for the role of queen."

"They're children."

"Your majesty, there's nothing that says you can't be with a child if you want to."

He could feel the taste of vomit, his stomach turned once more. Something had to be done about this.

"I want to change that law, no person above the age of 18 will be allowed to have sexual or romantic relationships with someone underage."

The priest stammers, suprise written all over his face as they stop walking "But-"

"No buts, they're children, they don't deserve to get taken advantage of because they're in a relationship with an adult."

"Your majesty, we can't just do that! Imagine how many people will be angered by it!"

"Did I stutter? We're going to change that law and that's final!" he turns to look at Travis, calm anger on his face "Or are you going to ignore direct orders from the king?"

"No! Of course not! I mean-" the priest gulps sudden nervousness at George's authority "What will happen to people who commit this crime?"

"Lock them up. For life" he turns and keeps walking down the hallway.

Travis stumbles to follow "For life?! Not even a bit of mercy, your highness?"

"We can't have them walking around with the potential of them doing it again. Plus, my father executed servants who messed up his food slightly, I'm being plenty merciful." he glances sideways at the priest "Why so nervous, Travis?"

"I- No reason, your highness! We'll make it happen as soon as possible."

"I'll also assign you a personal guard." he holds a hand up, stopping the man besides him from speaking "For security reasons of course, my father is suspected to have been assassinated and though it's not a proven fact yet it's better to be safe than sorry and to protect people close to him as well."

The priest looks white as a sheet following besides George as the king walks into his study, previously his dad's, though he never used it.

"They'll follow you 24/7, of course you'll have your privacy but they'll be assigned a room in the church, just like you, so they can accompany you throughout the day."

"I'll also ask them for weekly reports to make sure you've been doing your duties."

"Don't you trust me, my king?" Travis asks, in a voice where it's evident he's trying to get his authority back.

George turns to look the man in the eyes, silent for a second before speaking with a calm yet booming voice.

"My father might've trusted you but after all you've done, you won't _ever_ be able to gain my trust." he pauses "Now walk. You have tasks to do, I don't want to have this conversation with you again, do I make myself clear?"

Travis stays silent, fists clenched and expression furious.

" _Do I make myself clear?_ " He asks again, accentuating each word with a threatening tone.

"Yes, your majesty."

"Go."

He does.

When the door to the study closes, George's shoulders sag and he has to hold onto the desk so he doesn't fall to the floor.

He did it, he stood up against this man's sick beliefs and proved his authority.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his hammering heart.

"What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck." he keeps muttering to himself, the urge to apologize to Travis was enormous, he didn't know why he wanted to though, the man didn't deserve it.

He feels something acid rise to his throat, immediately stumbling to the trash bin besides the desk and empties what he had had for breakfast in it.

His stomach is still turning and he has difficulty breathing, hands trembling as he stands straight again. He decides then that he couldn't face anyone right now.

He looks back at the now dirty trash bin, immediately feeling bad for the unfortunate servant that'd have to clean it.

He sits down at the desk, looking over stacks of papers his dad had left behind. He knew his dad was lazy but to leave this much work to do was a new level of concerning.

And that's how he spent his day, looking over papers and writing, barely making any pauses to eat or any other activities.

He knew he could get someone to do this for him, ask him his opinion and write it out, but he didn't want to, he didn't want to have someone do his work for him, he wasn't a baby.

"How long has it been since you last slept?"

George curses, startled, hitting his knee on the desk and dropping his pen to the floor. He snaps his head up, seeing his younger brother standing at the door, clad in sleepwear and with arms crossed.

"What?" His voice is scratchy from lack of use.

"When was the last time you slept?"

George blinks slowly, willing black spots to disappear from his vision "What day is it?"

James tilts his head down slightly, looking at him with wide eyes and bewildered expression "Are you serious?"

George keeps staring, not muttering a word.

"It's the 6th of July."

"Two? Maybe three days?" 

"Are you serious?" 

"James."

"Oh my god, you are." James steps into the room, standing only a few meters away from his brother "George, you need to sleep."

"Too much work to do." he looks back at the paper he'd been filling, a request from one of his servants to marry a man they'd fallen in love with.

"You know what mum would say to that?"

George snickers, a smile spreading across his face "To get my ass up and go to bed?"

"Exactly!" His brother slams his hands on the desk, a grin wide on his face, he then starts pulling George by the wrist "Come on, you don't want mum to come from the grave and kick your ass."

George let's himself be pulled up and out of the room, he gently punches his brother's shoulder.

"Bitch."

"Twat."

George looks at his brother with false offence, dramatically putting a hand on his chest before it is slapped away by his brother with a "You're an idiot."

George is led to his room, he doesn't even bother changing clothes before falling onto his bed, stretching his wings as far as they could go before letting them fall by his sides.

He registers the sound of his bedroom door shutting before closing his eyes and letting unconsciousness take over.

The next few days are just as stressful if not more, Travis still insists on him getting married - with adult women this time, thankfully - and he's been changing his father's messed up laws, which results in the villagers requesting permission to build new houses and repair the old ones; George of course lets them, he's happy with feeling more stressed than usual if it means his subjects will be happy.

With the villagers having more to work with and to sustain themselves it means the guards are getting paid significantly less, enough to be considered quite rich but they're still upset their payment has lowered; and now that's a problem George has to deal with as well.

He stares at the gates of the kingdom through a window in one of the hallways, he wonders what's out there, he's heard stories of monsters and magic beyond his understanding; he wanted to explore, learn how to fight, learn what's beyond the gates.

His brother has to snap his fingers in front of his face to bring him out of his trance and then, he's back to work.

One, maybe two months pass and George can feel his sanity slipping, Travis had taken notice of how tired he'd been, had started trying to convince him to bring old laws back, he almost did due to peer pressure, fortunately his brother was there to stop the disaster from happening.

George could only take so much pressure before he broke, having a mental breakdown in his study with his brother hadn't been on the schedule today.

The words coming out of his mouth as he tried to express his feeling were undecipherable, most being sobs and wails.

He clung to his brother, shaking shoulders and blurry eyes. He could barely register when his knees hit the floor and his brother held him tighter.

It seemed like forever until he calmed down, small hiccups and sniffs the only sound in the room.

He almost winces when his brother next speaks.

"We need to get you out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally wrote this in a day, went on a writing spree


	3. I'm Not Sure I Want To Leave

"What?"

"We have to get you out of here."

George's brain takes a second to process the words spoken by his brother but when they do he grabs onto his brother's shoulders and separates them from their embrace.

"No, no we don't."

"Look at yourself! You're exhausted, you haven't been eating and you haven't tried going outside in months!"

"So what! It's part of being king, I'll get used to it."

"George, look me in the eyes and tell me it's okay."

"James-"

"George, look me in the eyes, and tell me it's okay." his brother says again, putting emphasis on each word.

George makes eye contact with his brother and he can't describe the emotion that immediately fills his body.

He tries to say it, 'it's okay', two words, easy; so why did his chest tighten when he attempted to get the words out?

"You're too young to be king." he says instead, for some reason trying to change his brother's mind seems easier than uttering those words.

"I'm a year younger than you, if I'm too young, you're too young."

"But-"

"Stop trying to change the subject, say it. Say it's okay while looking me in the eyes and I'll believe you." James's hands move to hold onto George's elbows, only firm enough to keep George in place but not hard enough that his brother can't pull away.

He can't. The only thing he sees when he looks into his brother's eyes is his mother, they've got the same eyes, the same soothing honey coloured eyes that he just couldn't lie when looking into.

"It's-" he chokes up on the words his voice sounding way too raspy and vulnerable.

"It's not." he finishes, lowering his head so that he doesn't have to look at his brother.

"It's not." his brother repeats.

They go back to being in silence, his brother slowly pulls him closer, bringing him into yet another tight hug.

They sway gently side to side, bundled up together on the floor of an almost dark study.

They knew the dangers of if George were to just leave without a plan, leaving the throne and his kingdom would come off as shameful, people could hire assassins to hunt him down, word would spread and he would be seen as selfish and heartless. People wouldn't help him then.

"Remember when we were kids and snuck around the palace to steal biscuits from the kitchen?" his brother asks, a small smile clear in his face but voice soft as if to not disturb the atmosphere.

"Yeah, I had to learn how to read maps, disarm traps and stuff like that because the guards and servants thought rats were taking their food." he moves his head to the side so that his words aren't muffled by his brother's chest.

"I never understood a thing about traps, you learned to disarm them so quickly I was honestly impressed."

"Aww, did I impress little baby Jamie?"

His brother pulls back "Aaand you ruined it." the grin on his face contradicted the tone of his voice.

"I needed a nice way to ruin the moment so that you didn't panic when I told you you're squishing my wing with your knee."

That makes his brother immediately jump back yelping out an apology, guilt on his face as George straightens and flutters the bent feathers.

They go back to being in silence, this time more intense. George folds his wings tightly before speaking up again.

"How am I getting out of here?"

His brother opens his mouth before pausing, brows furrowed and eyes seemingly analysing the gold trimming on his sleeve.

Finally he speaks "I don't know."

That makes a frown appear on George's face, he purses his lips slightly, eyes downcast.

His brother puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling "We'll figure something out."

The words don't reassure him as much as he wishes they did.

Turns out forming a plan is harder than the brothers had assumed, the security in the palace had been reinforced after it was confirmed his father had been poisoned. 

George, of course, had control over this, yet he couldn't bring himself to weaken the defence after servants and the priest himself admitted to not feeling safe without the security.

He had considered doing it anyways, convinced that servants wouldn't be targets of assassination but the priest had convinced him not to; they had been getting closer after their initial dispute over the law about the legal age of consent.

Travis was always there, encouraging him to do certain things that on his right mind he'd never even contemplate; though stress made you do stupid things.

As time went on he got more stressed, more work, more responsibilities, less sleep, less relaxation. He'd started letting his wings out around Travis after a while, tired and in pain from hiding them all the time. The priest had been delighted to see him walk into the room with his wings out.

The priest had been there to help him work when he was too exhausted to do so, had been there to comfort him when he had spontaneous breakdowns, had been there to stand up for him when his stomach turned and he couldn't demand certain things from servants and guards alike.

He'd always been there after his fathers death. Watching him.

On the night where George had cried guilty tears because he didn't care that his dad was gone enough, he'd been there, standing by the closed door of his bedroom, watching him.

_"It's not your fault, my king."_

_"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." he was surprised Travis had been able to understand him through his sobs._

_"It's okay, my king."_

_"He hurt me... He hurt me..!"_

_"He was your father, he knew what was best for you."_

_Silence._

_"...Are you sure?"_

_"Of course, my king."_

Seeing his brother became a less frequent occurrence, seeing him only about eight times a month, sometimes only getting glances as he sped through the palace. He wanted to see his brother, but Travis didn't like the idea.

_"I just want to have lunch with my brother."_

_"He's a distraction, you've been doing so well these last few weeks but whenever you see him your effort in ruling decreases and I can't help but feel disappointed."_

_The words had made his chest tighten for some reason "But he's my brother!"_

_"God, you're so self-centred."_

_"I- What..?"_

_"My king, you've only been thinking of yourself lately, “I want this-”, “I want that-”, please focus on the kingdom you have to rule."_

_"I- I'm sorry. It won't happen again, father."_

_"Good."_

After that conversation he had stopped trying to interact with his brother altogether.

He had started seeking approval from Travis, he felt accomplished when the man praised his work.

Maybe he should've ignored all of the attempts of getting closer in order to focus on escaping but now he wasn't even sure he wanted to.

That brought him to the current situation, standing in his locked room with his brother yelling back and forth. Their shouts mixed together, forming an almost undecipherable jumble of words.

"George, we have come so close, we can't give up now!"

"I'm doing fine here! I'm getting the hang of it!"

"That's a lie if I ever heard one! You're just getting more stressed, I can't remember the last time I've seen you rest!"

"James, please! I feel like I'm finally accomplishing something!"

"Are they your accomplishments or Travis's?"

George snaps his mouth shut, looking wide-eyed at his brother's flushed face.

"What."

"You heard me! You were actually doing a good job in the beginning! Changing up laws and lowering the price villagers have to pay, but now? Now they're back and worse! The villagers have to pay more than they did before and I can't just stand here listening to Travis manipulate you into doing this stuff! This has to end!"

George stays silent, mouth open and eyes wide. He closes his mouth again, turning his head to the floor so that he doesn't have to look at his brother, fists clenched.

"George," his brother starts, voice softer "Take a look at your wings." 

George doesn't want to, he knows what he'll see: wings with bent feathers and with dirt and blood all over them. He folds his wings tightly behind his back, attempting to hide the appendages almost twice his size. He hadn't even noticed they were out.

"He's done this to you. Please don't let him."

Tense silence fills the room, stretching out for what seems like hours; neither of the brothers speak, both seemingly deep in thought.

George sighs, looking at the ceiling with a small regretful mumble, he looks back at his brother "We need a plan."

James grins, walking over and taking a few rolled up papers from the bag he'd brought in the room previously, he sets them on the king-sized bed, spreading them out and gesturing George over.

"I've found maps with the palace's layout, there's an emergency exit in one of the dungeon cells leading to the forest outside."

"Why is there an emergency exit inside a dungeon cell?"

"Don't ask me, I didn't design it." James points at one of the dungeon cells "We can go there tonight and see if it's still there, we stopped locking up people in there hundreds of years ago so I'm sure there's no guards there."

"It's under the palace." George states, looking over at the map, searching for the entrance to the dungeons.

"Yep, finding the entrance is the hard part, apparently there were up to five entrances," he points at five different spots in one of the maps "two of which have already been covered up, so we'll have to see if the other ones are also covered up."

"They probably aren't."

His brother looks at him curiously, urging him to continue.

"From what I can see that's the only emergency exit in the palace, covering up a way to get there would be life threatening."

"That's... true." James moves back to looking at the maps, eyes searching "It really does appear to be the only exit."

"Well, let's do this." George grabs his cape from the bed, putting it on and tucking his wings tightly behind his back.

James rolls the papers back up, picking them up and tucking them under his arm, he goes up to George, who's about to open the door when James speaks up.

"Is Travis here tonight?" it's a whisper, in a tone that tells George just how terrified James truly is of the man.

George let's his expression soften, shaking his head and smiling reassuringly at his brother before opening the door.

They walk through the palace, James with one of the maps open while George keeps on watch for any guards that might get in their way.

They speak in hushed whispers, walking around the palace until they enter the library, they walk to the very end of the room, looking around at the dimly lit bookshelves. 

"It's supposed to be around here, maybe behind one of these bookshelves or under the floorboards..."

"Or maybe that door." George points at the door half hidden behind a bookshelf.

James turns his head to look at the door George was pointing at, he stares at it for a moment before rolling up the map and moving towards the bookshelf.

"Help me push this."

"That'll be really loud, though."

"Lock the library door, that way it'll muffle the sound slightly, since we're far from the entrance the chance of us being heard is extremely slim."

That night they find the entrance to the dungeon, they call it a night then, not wanting to risk getting caught and having witnesses who could speak up after George left.

Another night Travis was with him he had brought iron scissors decorated with diamonds, scissors that were soon covered in blood.

His flight wings had been cut off that night and he was left alone sobbing with a piece of cloth shoved into his mouth, blood and cleanly cut off feathers around him.

Either Travis had never had a bird that he didn't want flying away or he just didn't care enough to actually cut the wings off in a safe way.

He couldn't help but think he deserved it, the shame his wings brought him bigger than his kingdom could ever hope to be.

He passed out on the floor with Travis's words spinning in his head, over and over again like a broken record.

"Can't have my little bird flying away now, can I?"

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter :)
> 
> Don't be scared to comment, they make my day!


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